Randomocity

I had a moment yesterday in what I’m calling my mid-mommy crises.

It all started with me staring at my absolutely disgusting walls.

When I started at The Beacon, my daughter was entering kindergarten, and my son was heading to middle school.

My walls were constantly covered in feet-prints and pudding. (Did you know the foil-lids for cups of pudding will stick, indefinitely, to a wall when applied by a middle-schooler? Did you know it takes a blow-torch to get it off the wall once it dries?)

I was constantly adorned in jewelry made of toothpicks and rubber-bands, and there were always dandelions tucked behind my ear — just a constant barrage of gifts from little hands.

I wanted a clean house and walls without pudding liners. I wanted a home where if The Boy found the staple gun, I wouldn’t have metal trim in the hallway, and if The Princess found crayons I wouldn’t have murals on the breakfast bar.

I maybe wanted a vase of roses, instead of a wilted weed dangling off my ear.

Yesterday, I looked at my walls and decided it was time to think about painting. We moved in almost a decade ago, and we painted the walls white.

Young families, listen to me, and listen well: White paint is the stupidest thing, ever, when you have children under age 9.

Anyhoo, it might be time to paint.

I realized this train of thought was prompted by a distinct lack of new hand-prints and crayon marks.

Then, I got kind of weepy.

So there I am, looking at the wreckage I call home, and counting the months since I’ve been gifted with a Play-doh snake.

It hasn’t been months, folks. It’s been years.

I demand home-made mother’s day gifts and cards. I refuse to accept store-bought presents from my children on my birthday. Because somewhere in the back of my head I know the day they get a job they’re going to buy me a card.

And my construction paper days, my Play-doh days will be over for that child. Forever.

Wow.

I spent some time digging out some of the older jewelry. Things made of beads and paperclips. And, I spent some time examining the stain that sort of looks like Betty White on the living room wall. And, when The Princess brought me a bouquet of flowers from grandma’s pasture, I put it in water and fussed over it, and realized it was the most brilliant decoration I’d ever seen on my kitchen table.

I realized a lot of stuff yesterday.

I’ve realized maybe I was wrong.

I think I have to stop by the store and buy some pudding cups and Play doh. Maybe leave the staple gun and the glitter-crayons unattended.

Because, I just don’t think I’m ready to paint my house.

This entry was posted on Monday, June 8th, 2009 at 9:15 am and is filed under Mid Mommy Crisis. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.